The Way to Her Heart (19 page)

She hugged him tightly for a moment before pulling back to look up into his face. There was an awareness and intensity, which made both step away and drop their arms.

Josh shifted his feet nervously, not sure where to put his hands. “So, we need to celebrate. Yeah. Go get a dress on or something and we’ll go out.”

“There’s no need for that.” She resumed her seat and resumed her calculus homework. “You brought food from the restaurant.”

He watched her for a moment, realizing she was used to fading into the background. He was willing to bet no one had ever made a fuss over her in her entire life. Well, that was about to change. He stepped forward and gently shut her textbook. “We are going out. We’ll go to the restaurant because I know we can get a great table and special service. Now go put on something gorgeous while I call my mom so she can meet us there. She’d kill me if I didn’t tell her right away. She’s going to freak.” He punched the number on his cell while he shooed Bernie away to change her clothes. He was right—Claire was wild with excitement. She promised to leave the Rio Rancho restaurant in time to meet them at Trouvaille for a late dinner. He hung up and called Maurice to arrange for an impromptu, yet special celebration meal in Bernie’s honor. Then he raced upstairs to grab a super-quick shower and throw on a nice shirt and dress pants.

Bernie was waiting for him in the kitchen, and his jaw dropped when he saw her. He was used to seeing her in jeans, t-shirts, and sweats. Tonight she had donned a tight black sheath, which showed she was slim, yet had curves where it counted. She’d slicked her short hair back with gel and added a sparkly clip of some sort. Her lips had a touch of shine that made Josh nearly desperate to sample them. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to pull her into his arms—not for a hug this time. If he touched her, they wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight and his mother would have quite the surprise when she got home.

“You—you look great,” he managed to choke out.

“Thanks.” She smiled and shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. “I can’t remember the last time I wore a dress.”

“You ready? Mom said she’ll meet us there, so we better get going.”

“Thanks for doing this, Josh. It’s really nice.”

He wanted so much more than “nice,” but that would have to wait. He would have to be satisfied, for now, with making this celebration dinner a night to remember. He said nothing; he simply ushered her out the door and to his truck.

Maurice had outdone himself. He led them to a table by the window set in a small alcove. It was the best table in the house and rarely available on short notice, even on a weeknight. Josh wouldn’t be surprised if Maurice had done some juggling of the reservation list to facilitate this prime seating. The table was beautifully set with candles, flowers, and a champagne bucket at the side. Josh was positive the bottle peeking out of the snowy linen was nonalcoholic; Maurice would never risk their liquor license by serving minors.

“Wow,” Bernie whispered.

Josh smiled at the wonder in her voice and pulled her chair out. He poured them each a glass of the sparkling cider while the waitress delivered a tray of assorted appetizers. Claire joined them in time for the first toast. “To Bernie, our resident genius.”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” Claire touched her glass to Bernie’s and Josh’s.

“Thanks.” Bernie’s eyes were shining, and she touched a finger to the edge of one and looked at the wetness and black smudge, surprised. She laughed lightly. “Crap. I shouldn’t have bothered with the eye makeup. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Claire reached to squeeze her hand. “All right. Enough of this maudlin stuff. This is a happy occasion and I’m starving. Did you preorder, Josh, or are we choosing our own?”

“Choosing our own. I wanted Bernie to have whatever she wants.” He handed her a menu.

“What about you guys?” She’d noticed neither he nor Claire bothered with a menu.

“We don’t need to look at the menu. I helped create it, and Mom formatted it before we sent it to the printer. I’m having a steak. Maurice has a way with them I have yet to master.” Josh plucked another stuffed mushroom from the appetizer platter.

“I should have a salad, but I simply can’t resist the beef tenderloin. It melts in your mouth. What are you having, Bernie?” Claire gratefully accepted the glass of white wine the waitress set before her.

“Um, I don’t know. There’s too much to choose. This pasta looks good—fettuccine and a light cream sauce with shrimp and scallops. Is that okay?”

Josh chuckled and took her menu. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want. Save room for crème brûlée, though. I remember you liked it.”

The food was delicious, of course, and Josh was pleased with the evening as a whole. He watched Bernie interact and joke with his mother and Maurice when he stopped by their table and joined them for dessert; she was reserved but able to hold her own.

“So, are you ready to move into my triplex, missy? It’ll be ready in about a month.” Maurice had been working to get his empty apartment renovated since the last tenant had trashed it.

“I would love to, Maurice, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be way out of my price range.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” Maurice waved away her concerns. “I need someone in there who’s quiet and responsible. My other tenants have threatened to move out if I don’t get a good resident for them this time. The last two were nightmares!”

“How can you be sure I’m quiet and responsible? You barely know me.”

“Pfft! I know enough. Besides, you’ll be so busy studying to maintain your scholarship you won’t have time to throw wild parties.”

***

Josh
: Hey. U gonna sit with me?

Bernie: Not today. Sorry. Im sitting with Nat & Sofia.

Josh: Oh.

Bernie: See u in gov. OK?

Josh: Fine.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and set—some might say slammed—his tray on the cafeteria table.

“What the hell, dude?” Tony scooped up the fries, which had fallen from Josh’s tray, and shoved them in his mouth. He followed Josh’s gaze across the cafeteria to where Bernie was sitting with Gabby’s friends. “Ohhh. You two get in a fight?”

“No. She wants to sit with other people. It’s fine.” It was anything but fine, and Josh wondered why it bothered him so much. He had no claim to her and she had every right to sit with whomever she pleased. But he had thought—hoped—she enjoyed sitting with him.

“Her new taste in friends leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and turned his attention to his lunch, engaging Tony in a lively argument over the basketball game they’d both watched the night before. He knew Bernie was trying to get more information about Gabby from her former friends, but he missed her company. He’d gotten used to her beside him at lunch every day; it seemed eternal without her company. Was the conversation at this table usually so inane? He stood to throw his trash away, taking the opportunity to glance across the cafeteria. Bernie was laughing at something one of the other two girls had said. He grimaced and returned to his table, stopping only long enough to shoulder his backpack before turning to leave.

“You leaving? Lunch isn’t over.” Tony narrowed his eyes at Josh. “Oh, man. You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up. I gotta go to the library.” Josh could hear Tony laughing as he slouched out of the cafeteria. He flipped him the bird without even turning around, which caused Tony to laugh harder. He killed the remaining fifteen minutes of lunch browsing through the riveting titles in the reference section, finally giving up when the bell rang. He dragged his feet to his government class—it had switched from economics at the semester—and slumped into his seat, completely ignoring Bernie. He refused to allow himself to feel even slightly guilty at her hurt expression.

They had a test, which took the entire period. Josh was so distracted he couldn’t concentrate or make himself give a rat’s ass about the powers of Congress. He stared at the final essay question, unable to come up with anything until the bell rang. He flung his test in the basket on the teacher’s desk before leaving the class without speaking to Bernie.

“Josh!”

He didn’t turn.

“Josh!” She caught up with him, out of breath and obviously pissed. “What’s wrong? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Bullshit! You’ve actively ignored me all afternoon. What did I do? Is it because I didn’t sit with you at lunch?” She narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. “Oh my God! That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Whatever, Bernie. You’re free to sit anywhere you want.”

“I know that. I’m wondering why you’re having a problem with it. What’s going on, Josh?” She softened her tone and stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm.

He brushed it off, like the giant jerk he was, and shrugged.

Her jaw tightened as she stepped back. “Fine.” She turned and left him without another word.

His bad mood lasted until about halfway through his shift at the restaurant, when Maurice finally confronted him.

“What the hell are you doing to that parsley? I want it chopped, not pulverized.” He pushed Josh aside and took over the chopping, throwing away the green, soggy mash Josh had produced with a disgusted scoff. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you? Grab a soda and take a break. You’re useless if your head’s not in the game.”

Josh poured a soda and returned to sit on a stool by Maurice, admiring his technique as he made short work of the giant pile of parsley on the cutting board.

“Now, what’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this.” Maurice finished the parsley and moved on to the vegetables Josh was supposed to slice. “Are you and Bernie fighting?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you mean ‘I guess’? You’re either fighting or you’re not. Which is it, boy? If you can’t tell whether or not you’re fighting with your girlfriend, you’ve got bigger problems than I can solve.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. But we’re fighting. I did something stupid.” He finished his soda and set the glass down with a huge sigh. “I’m an idiot.”

“Of course you are. It goes with the territory. And why isn’t she your girlfriend? You like her, don’t you? She’s gorgeous and smart. You’re crazy if you don’t like her.”

“Of course I like her. I’m not that stupid.”

“What, did she turn you down when you asked her out? Did she friend-zone you?”

“I haven’t asked her out yet.”

Maurice set his knife on the cutting board and stared at Josh. “Well, what are you waiting for? A girl like her will get snapped up if you keep dillydallying.”

“Thanks, Maurice. Because that thought doesn’t keep me up at night.” The sarcasm dripped from his words like thick honey. “It’s actually my mom who’s friend-zoned me when it comes to Bernie. No romance allowed while she lives in our house.”

“Ahh, I understand. Your mother is a wise woman.” He turned to the industrial refrigerator and retrieved a Perrier for himself, popped the top, and took a seat next to Josh. “Well, I guess I better get the apartment ready pretty soon, huh? So, tell me about the fight. What did you do?”

Josh shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. “She didn’t sit with me at lunch and I got pissed. God, I sound like ten-year-old!” He didn’t understand himself; he’d never been the jealous type or overly possessive about his girlfriends. Not that she
was
his girlfriend. Yet. Please, God.

“Yeah, a little bit. But love makes us crazy. So, who’d she sit with? Another guy?”

“No. She sat with a couple other girls.” He realized it would be difficult to explain why he was so irritated about her sitting with Natalia and Sofia without spilling everything about Gabby’s case. “Stupid, I know. I just don’t think these girls are good for her.” Judging by their social media posts, they were definitely not the kind of people Bernie should hang around with. He knew she was trying to find out what Gabby had been up to, but he didn’t like it. And yes, he knew he’d been the one to suggest she get to know them in the first place, so his anger at her defection during lunch was a total overreaction, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. God, he was pathetic.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got some groveling to do. Why don’t you take her some dinner at work? You’ve done that before, and it seemed to go over pretty well. Maybe you could pick up some flowers on the way. Whenever I’ve screwed up with Drew, I pick up some of his favorites on the way home.” Drew was Maurice’s husband of nearly fifteen years, so Josh figured Maurice knew what he was talking about.

“How do you know what his favorites are? Isn’t he a florist? He must have, like, a million favorite flowers.”

“Tulips. They’re a bitch to come by in the winter. I try to restrict my dumbassery to spring.”

Josh laughed and stood to take over the chopping chore he had been assigned. “I have no idea what kind of flowers to get for Bernie.”

“I’ll call Drew. He’ll hook you up with something that’s sure to soften her up.”